


Crescendo

by SilverBird13



Category: Would You Rather (2012)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Shepard Lambrick Goes Down, that's the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ah, but unlearned poise was a delicate thing, and a slip of the tongue or flick of the wrist could surely teach the girl a lesson she should have already digested with the bites of her steak."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to dorothy-notgale and backwards-blackbird for the, ahem, inspiration.

The girl is pretty, Shepard thinks with flippant interest as Bevans thrusts her head into the barrel without preamble. Nothing compared to Lily, of course, but she’s not without her charms. Certainly a finer specimen than that fast piece Julian had had his eyes on all night. Shepard’s muscles tense at the thought of his son, and, determined in his careful calmness, he blows a low breath onto his tea and watches the girl-Iris, that’s it-thrash in her search for air. Without her heels and bangles to hide behind, the cleanness that clings to her is far more noticeable. In the fragile cheeks and determined jaw he’s flicked his gaze to all night, there is a hint of unwarranted dignity.

The thought charms Shepard as much as it disgusts him.

Ah, but unlearned poise was a delicate thing, and a slip of the tongue or flick of the wrist could surely teach the girl a lesson she should have already digested with the bites of her steak. Shepard raises the cup to his lips, purrs nearly imperceptibly as the earthy flavor warms his tongue. He knows it is fanciful, but he imagines that the girl would taste rather like Lily. A bit muskier, if the scent of her skin in Barden’s office was anything to go by. Perhaps the little dip she was currently taking would wash away the sickly floral cloud that had surrounded her all evening. Shepard sniffed, sipped his tea nonchalantly. One could dream.

As he watches the denouement of the spectacle in front of him, Shepard allows himself to do just that, face carefully placid as he plots wickedly. The same room, the same table, the girl splayed before him like the trussed animal she is. Yes, he’d drink in her desperate noises of anxiety and desire mixed for a long moment before soothing her nerves with the brush of his lips against the inside of her knee. He’d nose up her thighs carefully, snort with derision at the ridden-up cotton hiding the rest of her from his eager senses. Her knees, still trembling with concealed fear, would clench around his ears as he slipped them off with teeth and tongue, careful not to rip or ravage. Let her see how a true Lambrick man treats a woman. He’d run teasing hands up her calves to free him momentarily, chuckle lowly as she shuddered at the hint of nails against her skin while he curled his lips around the softness atop her legs. She’d cry out beautifully as his tongue flicked along an outer fold for only the barest moment before retreating, tasting carefully before finally lapping into her in earnest. She’d wail then, and he'd would laugh as he began his delight in earnest.

As Iris's cries grow more desperate, Shepard’s mind eases back to the frantic ticking of the clock. He sips the last of his tea, tongue darting out to catch the final drop before it can slide to the saucer below, eyes closed as he savors the girl’s last moments before the inevitable conclusion.

“And, time!”


End file.
